14:21 KST

Kim Jinwoo

“Stop!”

The shout of our choreographer rang all around the enclosed room, booming over the music playing from the stereo. Everyone stopped dancing, breathed heavily with scowls on their faces. I was not an exception only that I was in a worse state. I was panting hard, dripping wet and utterly frustrated with myself.

“Jinwoo, when the hell are you going to take this seriously?” he added with a glare that manifested his thinning patience. “We’ve been going over the steps a thousand times and yet you keep screwing up!”

I wanted to shout back. I'm trying here. I take this seriously! But that’d be a waste of saliva, especially with my parched throat and all. Instead, I bowed at him. “I'm sorry, hyung.” I panted, wiping the sweat off my eyes. “I’ll try harder.”

The glare was still there. He looked everything but convinced. “Stop wasting everyone’s time and get it right. Understand?”

“Yes, hyung.” I nodded and gave a low bow, ignoring the piercing stares of everyone else in the room. I saw him turn the other way, walking towards the door.

“Let’s end the session for today. We continue tomorrow,” he said loudly, then threw me disappointed look and turned to leave the room. I didn’t miss the annoyance in his voice when he muttered, “What a waste of time.”

My shoulders slackened, and I dropped my head, catching my breath. I know everyone was looking at me. I can feel the weight of their stares, can already see the look on their faces without lifting my eyes. Pity laced with distaste. It has always been that way. I knew then what everyone must’ve been thinking.

Privileged prick. Talentless. Pathetic.

I felt so small, so ashamed and irrelevant.

What am I doing here?

Suddenly a hand patted my back. “That’s alright, hyung.” Mino’s deep, cheery voice was everything but comforting. He slung his arm around my neck, and took all the liberty to ruffle my hair like he always did whenever I was reprimanded by our mentors or when I fail yet another monthly evaluation. I bristled beneath his touch, resisting the strong urge of slapping it away. “I know you’ll be able to get the steps in no time,” he went on. “You always do.”

“He’s right, Jinwoo hyung,” Seungyoon chimed in. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, okay?”

“And don’t take that guy too seriously. I could see you dancing pretty well.” Seunghoon added.

Taehyun hummed his agreement. “Maybe he’s just jealous ‘cause your toenail is better looking than his face.”

The others began laughing. This time, I decided to look up, and realize the others already left the room except for my co-members. Teahyun and Seungyoon were sprawled on the floor, while Seunghoon and Mino stood beside me. I could clearly see their efforts of trying to cheer me up.

I know I should feel grateful, but with the emotions tearing me up from the inside, curving my lips into the faintest smile was an impossible task. I remained silent.

“Hello, boys!” a female voice permeated through the sound of their laughter. And soon enough, two girls joined us in the practice room. For a split second, I tensed but willed myself to neutrality and looked at everything except the raven-haired girl walking towards me. I cannot muster myself to look at Jisoo’s face. Her mere presence rattled my heart, swelling it with anger and disgust.

“Hey,” Seunghoon beamed, wiping the sweat of his face with a cloth. “What’s up? You guys done with the singing lessons?”

“Chaeyoung and I are done for the day.” Jisoo responded. “Jennie and Lisa had to stay though. They’re having some extra lessons.”

Every filament in my body desperately wanted to flee from this room. I wasn’t ready yet. No. I couldn’t do it. But before I could come up with a reason to get out, I found myself unmoving while Jisoo wrapped her thin arms around me.

“Hello, oppa,” she greeted, and I found her looking up at me with a smile. Ordinarily, that sight would have smitten me like an idiot. But today, all I saw was a pair of treacherous lips curved into a deceiving smile.

 I feigned a deceiving smile of my own. “Hi.”

“What’s wrong?” she frowned, leaning away and tilting her head, probably noting how tensed and unwelcoming I was.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head.

“Jinwoo hyung is just hungry.” Mino interrupted.  “We all are. How about we go grab some food, yes?”

“Why not?” she beamed and withdrew her hands. Her attention is focused on Mino now. “Any suggestions?”

“There’s a new café near here.”

“Really? Do they have cakes?”

“Yes. I heard they serve the best blueberry cheesecakes. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

I observed as Jisoo’s eyes glittered instantaneously and her smile turned into a grin. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Right in front of me, the two of them exchanged a look at one another, and for a split second I saw the glint of unspoken emotions there. I was a blind and a pathetic fool for not noticing it before. All this time—their furtive glances, the double meanings behind their conversations—I was unaware of it. But now, I could see it perfectly. The betrayal and affair lain clearly in plain sight, mocking me for my stupidity.

I fisted my hands. “I didn’t know you like cheesecakes.” I rasped before I could stop myself. My voice was laced with gravel and ice. Cold. Hoarse. I casted her with a grim look. “What else do I don’t know?”

As if the world suddenly stopped, everyone fell silent and turned to look at the three of us. In the corner of my eyes, I saw Mino stiffen.

 “Oppa,” Jisoo struggled to keep her smile. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Hundreds of vicious words and curses desperately wanted to escape the seams of my mouth. I could feel it there, right at the tip of my tongue, dying to be spat on their faces. But I still couldn’t do it. Just like last night, all I did was to turn away, and walked out of the room, muttering.

“I’ll take some air for a while. Don’t follow me.”

I’m a coward.

Jisoo’s voice called out behind me, but I ignored her. I hated them, but I hated myself more. I hated the fact that I was scared of confronting the truth. Despite everything, I still hoped it wasn’t real.

A ing coward.

Sandara

Idly suspended in the air, I watched as Jinwoo stormed out of the room, leaving the wanton girl with a stunned expression on her face. I snarled at her and followed my human; his aura a stark gloom that could compare to the dark skies of my storms.

He continued barreling through numerous halls of the building until he found himself walking aimlessly outside, along the sidewalk. His steps slackened then, slumped his back against a nearby wall, releasing a breath as though he had been holding it in all along. On his third exhale, a seemingly mechanical sound echoed from his pocket. He sluggishly reached for it and brought a small and rectangular device—I saw most humans use—near his ears. 

“Young master,” a hesitant voice spoke from it. “Please, come home.  She’s…she’s not well.”

At that, Jinwoo’s face fell. The hardness of his eyes softened with concern; his tensed jaw unhinged. I already knew who this “she” was.

“I’m on my way,” he said, running toward the exit.

I was just about to follow him then when an unexpected energy tugged on me.

In an instant, I was pulled away from the mortal realm.

The distinct tang of humanity evaded my senses.

And instead, the crisp and cool breaths of the purest winds welcomed me instantaneously, rustling my hair delicately like a phantom caress. My hair. It was no longer the useless shade of dark brown that I had so uselessly disguised to uselessly blend in with the mortals; rather the long strands now turned into cascades of vibrant blue of the clear skies. The high-rising buildings made by mortals were gone, and instead a dark, starlit sky stretched perpetually above me. Vast and endless. Vacuous. Boring. I glowered at it. At the familiar pillars made of moonstone, and rows after rows of bookshelves, and sets of porcelain furniture. I was in the confines of my own home—in our world. And I was not alone.

“You do know how I feel about being suddenly summoned like this, right?” I groaned and shot my glare towards the damnably beautiful face of Spring.

Donned in a scant gossamer dress, she stood uncomfortably in front of me, the dress shifting from the shades of white, yellow and orange as she fidgeted on her spot. She chose white roses for her flower crown this time. The color looked impossibly paler on her usual vibrant red hair which was the color of blood now beneath the darkened sky; its fringes delicately touching the lashes around her glimmering dark eyes. I didn’t particularly appreciate looking at it now, or her for that matter, and she knew that because her sheepish smile withered, replaced by the defiant lift of her chin.

“Before you lambast me for disturbing your precious time in the polluted and unsightly realm of earthlings—”

“Bom.” I warned.

Bom—the goddess of Spring—understood then the threat of an unwanted drought on her beloved gardens and offered an apologetic look. “I had really no other choice.” She chewed on her bottom lip.  “He’s looking for you.”

I stilled then. Felt my blood froze. Despite the myriad of words flittering in tumult like anxious bees in my head, only one escaped me; one laced with astonishment and bile.

“Why?”

But even before Bom could utter her response, the air around us suddenly thickened with deathly tension. The trembling silence became a sound of its own. And the studs of thousands of stars glittering in the sky dimmed their light, as if cowering from the force of his darkness. Wide eyed, I could only stare as the goddess of spring—of blossoms, greens and daylight and everything which he was not—stiffen at the immeasurable power of his presence, the blush leached from her cheeks as she paled.

“Ah, there you are.”

I felt him first; felt the darkness rippling around him before his deep, sensual voice made sense. He was standing dangerously close behind my unguarded back. I resisted the urge of jolting away from him, and instead turned to stare back at Death right into his depthless eyes. It gleamed as he beheld me. I inclined my head to him, an effort to show the slightest of courtesy.

Bom however curtsied, locks of her red hair spiilling over her exposed shoulder. “Grim reaper,” she acknowledged softly, the undertone of something vicious and hateful concealed beneath the sweetness and reverence in her voice.